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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157663">ab imo pectore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home'>Finally_Home</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of JYJ, Prayer, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Sexuality Crisis, Stream of Consciousness, accepting oneself, coming to terms with sexuality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:20:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157663</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finally_Home/pseuds/Finally_Home</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>from the bottom of my heart</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ab imo pectore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Our Father who art in Heaven, </em>
</p><p>He never knew that a boy could be so pretty, soft hair falling over big sparkly eyes. Bambi eyes, he’d later joke, and though everyone else laughed, only he knew it wasn’t actually a joke. He was sixteen when he first met him, the fourteen-year-old boy who smiled from behind his hand and laughed while looking at the ground.</p><p>He hated him immediately.</p><p>Later, when he thinks back on it, he realizes why. He was just too pretty, too delicate, not like a boy at all. How come he got in easy as breathing and I had to work my ass off for it? Before he could process what was happening, he found himself stepping up to the boy who was much too pretty to be standing here and said, If you’re going to play around, you might as well quit now.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hallowed be thy name, </em>
</p><p>Of course they debuted together. He pushed down the conflicting hate and admiration and acknowledged the boy’s hard work and helped him nail the dance moves at 3 am in the humid practice room. Of course they would debut together, because who else would the boy debut with?</p><p>The boy was shy, still is, but especially so back then, and he, as the leader, planted himself right next to him and made sure the kid got enough screen time to establish a fanbase. The boy would thank him afterwards, big round eyes peering through his fringe and he remembers the way his heart would somersault in his chest and pound like he just ran five flights of stairs and he’d smile and mess up the kid’s hair and say, hey, that’s what hyung’s here for, right?</p><p>And then he’d actually go run five flights of stairs, to excuse the way his heart thudded in his chest, and to forget about the way the boy tilted his face up towards him, trust and innocence shining bright in those dark Bambi eyes, though he never could, and the image lingered on.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thy kingdom come, </em>
</p><p>When they climbed the charts in Japan, that was when they knew they’d made it. He yelled and jumped up and hugged everyone and when he finally reached the boy, who’d disappeared under the arms of the others, he found tears shining in the boy’s eyes, and his heart beat out a tango again and he knelt down and wiped them away and said, it’s okay, we’ve done it, we’re okay, we’re famous, but the boy only cried harder and he gathered him into his arms, burying his nose in his hair and trying not to let the color of his cheeks stain the air around them rose-pink.</p><p>They smelled like each other, as did everyone in the dorm because it was a dorm and they all used the same shampoo and soap, but it smelled better on him, for some reason, clean and powdery and making his stomach contract painfully, nervously, like he didn’t know why but really, he did. Of course he did, it had been years, and he wasn’t an idiot, even if he was still young.</p><p>He knew, but it was wrong, so wrong, so he knelt in front of his bed at night and prayed, <em> hail mary full of grace the lord is with thee </em>and then the boy came in from his shower dripping clear water off his soft body and knelt with him though he wasn’t Christian and his mouth hung open, suddenly dry, and could not finish the prayer.</p><p>But the boy finished for him, eyes closed and lashes sweeping gracefully over his cheeks, and said, <em> holy mary mother of god, pray for us sinners now and at the time of our deaths </em> , and then he opened his pretty, pretty eyes and looked at him and he swallowed, dryly, around the lump in his throat and together they said, <em> amen </em>.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thy will be done as it is in Heaven also on earth, </em>
</p><p>It was wrong. It was so unbelievably wrong that he didn’t know how to express it. He liked girls, he knew that, proposed with a ring pop to his kindergarten crush during recess and was painfully, heartbreakingly rejected. Cherry candy still leaves a sour taste in his mouth, but that might be the dramatic in him. When they all had long hair because the company decided they should start representing all the flower boys, he remembers staring at the kid as the stylists combed his hair behind his ears and the boy smiled at the lady and giggled a bit and he felt his throat close up and chest swell with something beyond pride.</p><p>And his heartbeat danced a samba in his chest, though he could feel it in his stomach too, and he bent over in phantom pain and felt like his heartstrings were being spun into yarn, woven into cloth and ripped apart at the seams. But he was the leader, still is, couldn’t break down, still can’t, and when it was his turn to get styled, the boy couldn’t stop looking at him, big brown eyes wide with something easily readable and one of the others made a joke, maknae’s in love with the leader, and the boy stopped breathing, cheeks turning red as an apple, but he didn’t deny it, didn’t refute a single word, and suddenly the room went silent.</p><p>And so did his heart, but thankfully, someone said, aw come on, he’s just a kid, what does he know? The moment broke, comforting chatter returned and the boy turned away, pulling at the flimsy clothes they put on him, but the tips of his ears still stayed red, and he replayed in his mind again and again the star-struck glazed-over <em> love </em>in his eyes and hated himself for knowing it, for liking it, for wanting more.</p><p>He put distance between them, hung out with the others more and by now, the boy could hold his own during an interview, had begun to sass around and he could sit back and laugh and watch his face blossom like a sakura in the spring, light and soft and oh so pretty, but he only hated himself more for it. More, more, and more.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Give us the bread of our need this day, </em>
</p><p>The others left, and suddenly it was just them two left, him and the boy with the tearful Bambi eyes. He fell numb, not knowing how to feel or what was expected of him, of them, the group, their future. Would there still be a group, or would they be better off splitting too? Finish what had already been started, ruin themselves by their own hand?</p><p>He could hear the boy crying, late at night in his own room, probably when he hadn’t expected him to still be up. But he was up every night, drowning in the darkness and looking out at the cruel city lights twinkling on the horizon, and remembers feeling utterly alone in his haze of whatever emotions he’d locked up in his heart. Pain, betrayal, hurt, whatever it was, he felt it and didn’t at the same time, but the quiet muffled crying coming through the wall from the next room over caused his heart to tremble, and without knowing what he was doing, he found himself pushing open the door.</p><p>The boy didn’t acknowledge him, but he lied down on the bed with him, cradled him in his arms and the boy sniffled and cried and burrowed deeper into his warmth and he stayed, ignored the painful jerks of his heart and waited until his breaths evened and stayed some more, heart stuttering, breath stopping, and he sighed out <em> water flowing from the side of christ wash me clean </em> and inched his way off the boy’s bed, knees touching the cold tile floor, and stayed watching him sleep.</p><p>He was an angel, he was a demon, the devil incarnate, and he bowed his head and felt tears fill his eyes. Why, why them? Where had they gone wrong? And then the boy woke up and touched his tear-streaked cheek with his warm hand and breathed out <em> gate gate pāragate pārasamgate bodhi </em>and though he didn’t know what the words meant, he let the boy pull him back onto the bed and together they fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.</p><p>They woke the next morning drowning in tears with the ruby sun shining onto their arms and the boy looked beautiful, eyes fluttering open and hair falling limply against his forehead. He looked up at him, said in a small voice I’m sorry hyung, but he pulled him into his chest and pressed his lips together and pretended the boy couldn’t hear the tremor of his heartbeat and they both pretended neither of them were trembling, but still they stayed, and finally he let go and looked into those glassy, broken Bambi eyes and said hey, I’m here.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And forgive us our debts and our sins as we have forgiven our debtors, </em>
</p><p>With the success of the comeback crowing victorious in the backs of their minds, he gradually stopped the shaking of his hands before they stepped out onto the stage and saw the boy watching him, eyes crinkled, lips curved, and held out a hand, waited for him to take it, and felt the constant warmth that stayed beside him and could once more focus on the erratic rhythms of his heartbeat whenever they looked at each other.</p><p>Once again hated himself for what he could or could not control. He didn’t know which, and it soured the amicable atmosphere in the practice room whenever the boy pushed back his crimped hair behind his ears and he took a deep breath and muttered <em> saint michael the archangel defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil </em> as if his only remaining teammate was the devil himself. He looked at him then always and said hyung, I’ll try it again, but he was done and fed up and slammed his fist into the wall and yelled no, no you won’t, and stalked away and regretted it immediately but it was too late to do anything about the hole in the drywall.</p><p>He returned in about two minutes because really, that was all he could stay away for, and found him blankly picking up the pieces of wall, looking up with a start as he knelt down beside him to silently help. Silence, though he could feel the boy’s eyes flickering nervously to him, and it felt like a knife through his chest but also gratification, I fought against the devil, my temptation, and he sighed through his nose, turned up the music, and said let’s try it again.</p><p>Later, back at home in the dark night, the boy handed him a bottle of soju and sat down beside him on the couch and said hyung, I’m sorry I suck, but he only shook his head and ruffled his hair. The scratches on his hand had congealed, ugly red and bruising purple, and though he couldn’t handle his alcohol, he drank the soju anyway, wanting to forget, wanting to ignore, wanting to just be right and good and straight again.</p><p>The sins carved deep and inked into his heart, bleeding black like tears and running down his chest like Seoul river water could wash away his wrongness, like blood down the back of his arm as he dug his nails into the flesh, soft and tense and he wanted to be punished, deserved all the pain thrown at him, was that why they left, was it divine punishment? Oh, by god, he deserved it all.</p><p>He ruined them, and he’d ruin himself before he ruined the boy too.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And bring us not into temptation but deliver us from evil, </em>
</p><p>It happened first in Japan, when they stepped into that little one-bedroom apartment and sat down in silence and then mutually agreed to go out for dinner, unable to look at the bottle of chili flakes on the countertop. It happened in the restaurant, when the boy asked him to pass the soy sauce and without thinking he picked up the porcelain jar and handed it to him and their fingers touched, warm and forgiving and heartbreaking, and his hands trembled and nearly dropped the jar, and the boy looked at him with eyes wide and brown as a baby deer and said, in Japanese, sensei, are you okay?</p><p>But he wasn’t and the boy’s gaze turned concerned and he left the table and his mind whispered vicious untruths and his heart hurt something terrible but when the boy came back, he held plastic containers in his hands and he said in Korean hyung, let’s eat at home. So he helped pack the food in a daze but when they returned back to the dorm, the boy flicked on the lights and warm white light flooded the room and he couldn’t stand the clawing pain in his heart anymore, grabbed him and spun him around with shock on his face and food in his hands and took his face in his hands and kissed him, lips against his in a desperate heartwrenching want and he felt the boy gasp, breathing him in but he didn’t let go until their cheeks both burned, whether from shame or lack of oxygen, and said, voice cracking with the heartbreak, I don’t want to hide anymore.</p><p>The boy’s pupils trembled, roaming over his face and he could imagine how he looked, desperate, debauched, lips bitten red with nervousness, and then he put the food down and walked forward, pushing him against the wall and touched his lips with his fingers and said, shaking, hyung, I’m so in love with you, and when their lips met again, hard and heated and impatient with all the time lost feeling like a sin, the puzzle clicked into place how right they felt against each other, and he tangled his fingers in long soft hair and the boy let out a noise into his mouth that he swallowed with a trembling laugh.</p><p>Tokyo nights could grow long, but they moved slowly like a dance in the dark, lithe and graceful and unrushed despite the excitement racing a million miles a second in their hearts. He could feel it, pressing his palm against the boy’s chest, the hard strain of muscle and the thundering of his heartbeat, and his little boy grew up so well, caught his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, said hyung, I fought my demons for you and won, and the lights from the streetlamps outside burned orange in the shadows as he fell backwards onto the bed, eyes closing in the knowledge of all that was right.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> For thine is the kingdom the power the glory for an age of ages, </em>
</p><p>The phoenix forged and risen from the ashes, burnt and fell and rebuilt itself and they rose, steady as ever, in the world music charts, and sometimes he felt like collapsing, but the boy’s constant presence pressed warm and steady against him reminded him of their promise, the beginning, why he even chose this path in the first place.</p><p>Dominated the charts again and again, but still it wasn’t enough, and he began to crave the rush of pressing the boy against the wall, trapping him between a rock and a hard place, eyes dark with something more than lust, whispering baby, I want you so bad. As if there was no guilt, as if there was no sin, but the way the boy’s eyes curved up at the ends was worth the lingering pain and he buried his face in the crook of his neck and laughed and said hyung, you’re an idiot.</p><p>He was, he admitted, the biggest idiot, the biggest fool, and all for you, he murmured into the sweet scent of vanilla body wash, running his hands down his back. The smooth planes of muscle, knotted with tension and sometimes injury, and he sighed and said I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but what for he didn’t know, and he might have been apologizing to himself, but the boy wouldn’t know that.</p><p>A long journey to recovery, to healing and accepting himself, but the boy found him watching Reply 1997 one day, wiping at his tears like a child and pulled him into his chest and hummed some melody long forgotten, and at the end, he whispered <em> gate gate pāragate pārasamgate bodhi svāhā </em>. Gone, gone to the other shore, gone completely to the other shore, svaha, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.</p><p>The boy grew up well, he thinks, sitting back with eyes crinkled into laughter, watching him embarrass himself on live television and smack him in the chest because he thought he wasn’t paying attention. They’ve conquered the world, but it doesn’t matter, not to him, and he laughs, uselessly protesting that he had been, and secretly takes the boy’s hand beneath the table, entwining their fingers, and watches the blush rise on his cheeks as he shakes his hair, flustered.</p><p>Because I’ve conquered him, the thought surfaces in his mind, and he calls Changmin and the boy turns, sparkling Bambi eyes wide and curious and innocent, and he smiles. Yes, hyung?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Amen. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i can't figure out how to add footnotes so here we go:</p><p>1. ab imo pectore - latin; from the bottom of my heart</p><p>2. our father who art in heaven - the lord's prayer</p><p>3. hail mary full of grace - hail mary</p><p>4. water flowing from the side of christ - anima christi</p><p>5. gate gate pāragate pārasamgate bodhi/svāhā - sanskrit, from the heart sutra; gone, gone to the other shore, gone completely to the other shore, svaha</p><p>6. saint michael the archangel defend us in battle - saint michael prayer</p><p>i am very much not religious but have an unhealthy dose of curiosity towards religion; this was supposed to explore yunho's rejection and eventual coming-to-terms of his sexuality, but i don't think it turned out the way i meant</p><p>edit: i realized belatedly that some ppl might not know the significance behind reply 1997 being mentioned; one of the main characters (portrayed by infinite's hoya uwu) is gay and iirc a part of the story focuses on him and his feelings, so yunho crying while watching the show... yall know what i meant lol</p></blockquote></div></div>
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